Ask Me No More
by drama-princess
Summary: Diana Blythe returns to Redmond after the war ends, and soon finds herself becoming friends with a returned soldier, John Howard. Soon, hints of romance develop between the two, but what will happen next?
1. The Friends

Ask Me No More**  
**

  
Part I: The Friends  
  
_Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;  
The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape,  
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;  
But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee?  
Ask me no more. _  
  
_~Ask Me No More, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson  
_  
The leaves drifted down in a sublime symphony of red and gold and orange that were explosions of glory against the dull grey stone that lined Redmond's pathways. Diana Blythe looked fondly at the dignified brick buildings that framed the paths and adjusted her smart new hat that covered her mass of glossy red love-locks. She stepped briskly against the cool autumn breeze, looking very fashionable in her new, brown broadcloth suit lined with the sweetest creamy trim. She let her slim hand, wrapped in a dainty kid glove, linger along the rail as she cheerfully waved the other fingers in greeting to other Redmond students out on the lovely fall day.   
  
Diana let out a contented sigh as she came to rest on a cast-iron bench, softened by the pleasing tangles of English ivy. Happily, she leaned back, one arm resting on the bench, luxuriating in how wonderful it felt to be _happy_ again. It was two years after the war, and life was beginning to be glowing again. Oh, it would never be the same carefree existence as before, with riotous laughter and merry outings untouched by any shadows of doubt or fear or grief--but Diana did not mind. She was too sensible to allow lingering effects to disturb her life, for she understood where the line between remembrance and melancholy was drawn. The great sacrifices made in precious lives were not for unhappy lives lived in the shadow of the Great War, but for happy lives, ones that were always conscious of the gifts they were blessed with.   
  
Diana made a very pretty picture of the new woman, sitting on the age-worn bench in her newly-fashioned dress. Her countenance was nothing but cheerful and intelligent. Her sweet, rosy mouth, firm with determination, hinted at the fine supply of common sense that Diana had inherited from her father. She had her weaknesses, of course, of her youth and of her character, but Diana was all in all a strong, confident woman with a fine sense of humor and confidence. But there was a certain something lacking in her features that only true, deep suffering could bring out. The war had temporarily etched those lines on the youthful face, with the death of a dearly beloved brother and the horrors of war--but Diana had been a girl still--and time is kindest to the youth. Grief and charity she had had plenty of; but Diana's character had not deepened to the extent to where she could keenly appreciate them. It is only when we love someone more than life itself when we are truly wracked by agony at the sheer thought of losing them. But until that day, Diana remained a fresh, young girl, still beautiful in the bloom of innocence.   
  
A young man dropped down next to her on the bench, and Diana turned with interest. He was evidently new, for she did not know his handsome face. She tilted her head slightly with a vague wonder. He had a fine, clear profile that showed his nicely cut features to his best advantage. A sweep of light brown hair fell over his brow, and his eyes were a light, piercing blue-green that intrigued Diana as they indifferently turned toward her. He was only a few inches taller than slim, tall Diana, but his mature bearing made those around him mentally increase his real height. Diana decided to indulge her curiosity.   
  
Pardon me, she offered with a little laugh bubbling under her voice. But are you new at Redmond? You don't seem to be a Freshman or a Sophomore--and I thought I knew all the Juniors and Seniors. The man looked at her in a kind of polite puzzlement, but she could sense the interest lurking beneath it.  
  
Well, you must know them all, for, despite my-- he mockingly tugged at his vest--mature appearance, I am a sophomore. I was studying out west, and just recently came out here to complete my education. Diana laughed.   
  
Well, you can think me a goose if you'd like, but I've always spoken my mind. The man extended a hand.   
  
I'd never think a girl a goose for speaking her mind. Too many young ladies mince the truth and tiptoe giggling around the subject. It's refreshing to see someone who doesn't do either. Diana shook his hand, her eyes studying his face intently.   
  
It's refreshing to hear a young man say that. Too many men want girls to be silly and frivolous. The man laughed, a dry, ironic chuckle that caught Diana's interest.   
  
I'm sorry, he said, subsiding. Your name is--? Diana caught up her manners in a great, desperate leap.  
  
Diana Blythe, she offered somewhat sheepishly. I'm sorry, I'm just so caught up in coming back to Redmond that my wits are somewhat frazzled. The man nodded.  
  
That I can understand. It's a wonderful transition from being on the front. Diana nodded, her cheerful spirits dampened somewhat by the painful reminder of the war. The sorrow alleviated with his continuation of his introduction. I'm John Howard, by the way--I can't really criticize anyone's manners if I don't fulfill the expectations of etiquette myself.   
  
It seems to me you do that at any rate, Diana quipped merrily, returning to her happy self. The man smiled, slightly sardonically.  
  
Not a new thing to me, I suppose. Tell me, Miss Blythe, do you know the campus well? I'd appreciate a tour.  
  
I do know the campus well, and it's Diana, if you please. Diana stood and brushed off her skirt expectantly. John nodded.  
  
Thanks in advance, Diana, and I'm John. He offered her his arm in a courtly fashion that amused her, although he quickly reverted to his dry, twentieth century manner. Diana was intrigued by the young man. Although seemingly sarcastic and remote, he had a dear charm about him that attracted her. If all continued in a similar vein, Diana thought happily, she should have a very good friend soon. The unlikely pair wandered about the lovely old campus, getting to know each other on the clear autumn day.   
  
I can't decide whether to destroy something or to simply scream, Diana announced, throwing herself down into a large, comfortable armchair in one of the student rooms. John unconcernedly glanced up from his thick textbook.  
  
If you do either, you'll feel distinctly foolish about five seconds afterward, he pointed out, his reading glasses having slipped to the end of his nose. Diana sighed and looked over at him.  
  
Yes, but won't I feel good for those five seconds? John smiled slightly as she laughed at the mental picture of her hurling something heavy across the room. Oh, dear, Diana sighed, having finished her joke for the moment. I am so dreadfully tired of studying. I've pored over Latin until I felt positively ill, let me tell you. It got so bad that it would have been a relief to see poor, little Jack Daniels come and talk to me. You know it's gotten awful when you'd be glad to see the most uninteresting man ever created.   
  
Latin's not hard, John objected, laying down his glasses on a nearby table. In fact, it's quite easy.  
  
Easy for you, Diana retorted. The rest of us aren't nearly as gifted in languages as you, John, as you seem to forget quite often. John shook his head and drew his chair a little close to hers.   
  
he said, handing her a little notebook. I'll say a simple phrase, and you can translate it. All you really need is some experience, Di. Diana sighed impatiently--she hadn't come to him for a lesson, just for a little comfort and a ear to complain to. She should have known better, she thought ruefully. John never let anyone get off easy, especially her. He was always pushing her to the next level--a trait that could be both comforting and aggravating.   
  
Aliquem salvere jubere, John began, his sweet tenor voice resonating over the soft murmur of casual conversation. Diana bit her lip.  
  
To greet a person? she ventured. John nodded.   
  
Quid agitur?   
  
How are you? John smiled at her.   
  
See, all you need is a little practice. We'll just work on it together, and you'll get it in no time. Diana smiled in return.   
  
All right. . .I wish I could help you in something, though. John arrogantly stretched his arms back.  
  
Ah. . . he said smoothly. I'm perfect. Giggling, Diana threw a small cushion at him, which caused him to sit up in mock offense and glare at her.   
  
You're just lucky we're in public, he warned her, a smile lurking beneath his scowl. If I wasn't expected to be such a gentleman, you wouldn't survive. Diana laughed again.   
  
Oh, you wouldn't have the nerve, John Howard. Diana taunted him, keeping her voice low but her expression mischievous. He raised his eyebrows.   
  
Wouldn't I? With that, Diana leapt up out of the room, unable to contain her giggling. She escaped out into the shaded, private courtyard, panting slightly with relief and the delight of having fun. She exhaled deeply and extended her arms out, only to feel someone tickling her in her especially sensitive sides.   
  
Diana scolded in between her hysterical laughter. John shot her an innocent blue-eyed look.   
  
Diana only laughed, shook her head, gathered up her purse, and started out the courtyard.   
I'll see you tomorrow, John, she called over her shoulder as she left.   
  
Yes, I'll see you, he replied, smiling, as he stuck his hands in his pockets. With a familiar grin, he returned to his chair and his textbook.  
  
The next day, Diana and John cut French to go walking in the woods.   
  
I should feel horribly guilty, Diana said laughingly, tripping along the forest. John only smiled and glanced over at her. She was looking especially pretty today, he thought a trifle wistfully, as he noticed her sage green sweater and blue and green plaid skirt that complemented her beautiful twist of auburn hair and creamy skin.   
  
Although I can't imagine why, Diana continued, looking over at the light blue sky stirred by the gentle autumn breezes. Monsieur doesn't even bother to show up half the time, and when he does, he just flirts with the pretty girls in our class. I haven't learned a word of French besides Enchante, Mademoiselle' and L'amour.' She laughed happily. I shouldn't go on so--it really is dreadful of me.   
  
Not all the pretty girls in the class, John said, before he could bite back the words. Diana threw him a startled look.   
  
John felt a slight warmth come into his cheeks, and he glanced away from Diana's inquisitive eyes.   
  
He doesn't flirt with all the pretty girls in our class. Diana lifted an eyebrow.   
  
Which one does he miss, then? John swallowed hard.   
  
Diana laughed heartily at that, leaving John slightly annoyed and more than a little embarrassed.   
  
Me? Pretty? Oh, John, you have to say that because you're my chum. But, really, I won't be hurt by the truth. I know I'm angled and have red hair and green eyes--nothing particularly conductive to beauty, I'm afraid. John shrugged.   
  
Well, I think you're pretty, Di, he said lightly, looking at the sculpted texture of the bark on a nearby tree. He ran his hand up the roughness of the surface. A slightly awkward silence fell between the two chums as they strolled through the forest together. Shafts of pure, white light illuminated areas of the mossy ground and turned bits of dust into faeries with the beams. Great, damp hollows were hidden by the encircling trees that reached strong arms around the place to both hide and protect. The young woman and man looked oddly comfortable among the untamed nature, with their souls that were sufficiently different from the norm to be happy here and discontented with their more prosaic peers.   
  
John Howard has a notion of courting you, Nan Blythe said bluntly to her sister as they sat, preparing for a dance that night. Diana blushed to the roots of her red hair at the suggestion.   
  
Don't be silly, Nan, she said quickly and defensively, twisting two strings of pearls together to tie around her slender, creamy neck. We're just chums, that's all. Nan shot her a knowing look.  
  
  
  
Diana sighed in exasperation as she bent down to retrieve her satin gloves and hide her flushing face for a moment.   
  
Yes, chums! I don't see why I can't be friends with a man! Just because I spend time with him doesn't mean he's courting me!  
  
Calm down, Diana, Nan reassured her, casting her a puzzled glance. I was only teasing you a bit. Diana frowned and jerked her hair into place with a little more energy than necessary.   
  
I wish you wouldn't, she said to her sister. It's going to be awful when the gossips decide we're courting--I don't need my own sister dropping hints to speed up that day. Nan nodded in sympathy. Despite her marked preference for Jerry Meredith, many young men came wooing the girl. Diana had sometimes felt a slight pang of envy for her pretty sister, whose nut brown curls attracted people as Diana's ruddy tresses never did. While Nan's eyes flashed at an approaching man, Diana's merely stared levelly and sensibly at him. Nan possessed an inviting touch of coquettishness, while Diana preferred to deal with a suitor as his equal. Needless to say, most young men went to Diana's better half, as she fondly referred to her twin. Diana's common sense usually overpowered the rankling of her girlish heart when seeing her own apparent defects. But she was still young, and no daughter of Anne Shirley could remain entirely sensible in all affairs of life.   
  
Your flowers have come, girls, said the matronly voice of Mrs. Brown, their landlady. Nan promptly pounced on the woman, who smiled patiently and handed over her packages.  
  
Let's see. . . Nan said, examining the boxes with a keen eye. Red roses for me, from Jerry. . .and well, goodness, it's some violets from Mr. Howard for you, sister dear. Diana's face flushed once again as she took the box from Nan and peered inside.   
  
That's nice of John, Diana said innocently, trying a cluster of violets in her hair.   
  
Indeed. Here, Di, let me give this a shot. Diana's hands dropped to the side while Nan rearranged and puffed hair to her content. I'm so glad that you haven't done anything awful with your hair, Di, Nan continued, twisting a section of hair so it framed Diana's face. It's really lovely.  
  
But red, Diana said gloomily, watching her reflection with dissatisfaction.   
  
Red hair is beautiful, Nan shot back. And yours is like Mother's--so thick and wavy. Mine's dreadfully fine and straight. I can't do anything with it all. Diana smiled indulgently at her sister.  
  
You are the loveliest creature that ever set foot on Redmond, Nan dear. And I will bask in the reflected glory of your beauty. Nan laughed and finished with Diana's hair.   
  
There, you flattering goose, you're finished. Now stand by me and let's admire ourselves. The two, fresh-faced girls stood arm in arm, watching their pretty reflections in the glass. Nan stood resplendent in her rose-coloured crepe dress with satin trimmings while Diana wore a pale lavender satin gown with a darker sash. Both girls had puffed and curled their locks to the content of their girlish hearts, worn identical strings of pearl and white satin gloves, and carried flowers in slim hands, but the greatest adornment of all their finery was their sweet, blossoming innocence.   
  
Nan cried triumphantly. I'm glad you wore the lavender, Di, she continued in a confidential tone. No one believes how marvelous a redhead looks in lavender until they see it for themselves.  
  
was Diana's elegant reply as she exited the room. Nan laughed and dashed after her sister, her cheeks pink with excitement and happiness. The front hall of Mrs. Brown's house was filled with people. Jem was there, with a beautiful and joyous Faith Meredith on his arm; Shirley, who seemed to be paying an unusual amount of attention to his pretty companion for the evening; Carl, who was escorting the lovely Miss Randolph that night; and, of course, John and Jerry, who looked up expectantly for Nan and Diana.   
  
Jerry automatically moved towards Nan with a wide smile on his face, but John paused a moment, looking at Diana's slim form, the profile of which was highlighted by the ivory wallpaper behind her. The delicate curves of cheek and chin stood out perfectly, and he drew in a sharp breath. He had harbored a strong fancy for his friend for quite some time, but seeing her sweet face looking towards him now, he knew that he loved her with all his heart, as he would not--could not--love any other woman on the world. The wave of emotion that rolled over him in those few precious seconds illuminated so many questions for him. Love was not a great mystery after all, but a very real, albeit magical, thing. A greater power than man knew that his children needed the reason for life to be accessible to their mortal hands. Diana broke through his musings with a puzzled look.   
  
What is it? she asked. John mentally shook himself and held out his hand to help her down the stairs.   
  
You look very pretty, he said, the words sounding absurd even to his own stunned ears. Diana laughed and playfully nudged his arm.  
  
Goodness, I must be wonderful tonight! I got John to use the word he so dreads!' A ripple of laughter ran through the couples, and John offered Diana his arm.   
  
I'll give you that, Miss Blythe.   
  
Why, thank you, Mr. Howard, Diana returned in the style of playful mocking the two had established as their usual form of discourse. Nan and Jerry exchanged knowing looks, remembering a couple who had also used arguing in place of honeyed words when they were courting.   
  
I told you so, Nan said to Jerry with a decided nod.   
  
asked Faith as she finished adjusting Jem's tie, which he took with a long suffering and secretly pleased expression. Nan giggled, but managed to swallow her laughter just in time.  
  
I'll tell you later, she said. Diana shot a suspicious glance in their direction, but seeing nothing amiss from the usual flirtations, returned complacently to chatting with John.   
  
said Jerry thoughtfully as the group left the room. Most interesting indeed.   
  
Carl asked, in a tone of extreme exasperation. Why do I always miss the interesting things? Miss Cynthia Randolph, a blond beauty whose majestic loveliness was somewhat belied by her mischievous manner, gestured and winked at Diana, who was unaffectedly talking with John.   
  
Oh. . . Carl said, his voice suddenly gaining understanding. I see. Jerry elbowed his brother.   
  
he hissed softly. Or we'll have Diana after us--and you know as well as I do how dangerous it can be to insult a redhead. Carl's eyes opened wide at that reminder, and he promptly returned to small talk with the others.   
  
Meanwhile, Diana and John walked a little to the side, talking and merrily laughing together. However, Diana's mirth was a little feigned tonight, for the bulk of her mind was concerned with the suggestion of more than friendship with John. She was, unquestionably, very fond of him. Yes, very fond. But love? She mentally shook her head. No. She had not yet discovered that all-compassing feeling in her short life, and she knew that it did not exist with John.   
  
she said aloud. The entire party paused amid their conversations to look at her. Can I talk with you for a moment? John's brows drew together in confusion, but he nodded.   
  
Certainly, Di, he agreed, following her into a sheltered alcove of pine trees. Diana sat down on a mossy stump, her gown pooling at her feet in a cloud of satin. Her lashes lowered over her eyes, which were soft and tender in the moonlight. She bit her lower lip, and in the midst of all that seemed more pressing, John noticed how beautiful her face was. The thing that struck him most about her was that while other girls hid behind a vermeer of rouge and other cosmetics, Diana remained as pure and as natural as her unadorned and beautiful soul. There was a sweet kind of simplicity that drew John to her. Diana drew in a breath, noticing for the first time in her life the effort it required to do so.   
  
she began hastily, before she lost her resolve. This is going to be horribly, terribly rude of me to say this to you--and I don't mean to sound dreadfully conceited, but--but-- her voice broke off as John slowly sat down on a nearby rock.   
  
I see, he said slowly. Let me guess, all right, Di? I've got a knack for guessing what people want to say. Diana nodded, feeling absolutely relieved. She pressed her palm against her seat, leaning back. John thoughtfully looked at his hands.  
  
You want to be friends with me, but don't want anyone to throw any sentimental rot in the way of our platonic friendship. You also don't want to encourage any romantic feelings I might have towards you, for you want things to remain the way they are. Diana stared at him, her mouth falling apart a little in surprise.   
  
I--yes, that's exactly it.  
  
See, that wasn't so hard, was it, Di? John chided playfully, raising her to her feet. Diana managed to recover some of her wit and elbowed him.  
  
I'd like to see you initiate it, Mr. Howard, Diana flung back at him, now relaxed. They returned to the main road and their conversation, but this time it was John, and not Diana who was hiding feelings. A sting had hidden behind his smiles as he had candidly laid out the situation between the two of them. John looked up at the starlight that glimmered elusively through the trees. _Someday, Di, I'll be worthy of your love, and then I'll win it. But I can't ask it of you now--it must be you who brings about the subject.   
  
_And so the two friends walked along the gently winding path to a night of merriness, both were happily unaware of the curtain being drawn over this act of their lives. This act had passed, and soon a new one would be played on the greatest stage of all._  
_  
End of Part I.  
  
~-~-  
Author's Note: All characters are property of their respective owners. This has been posted before, first on the Anne3 forum, and later Avonlea, but I wanted to give it a bit of a chance here as well. Reviews are appreciated. :)  
  



	2. The Tragedy

[b]Part II: The Tragedy[/b]  
  
[i]Ask me no more  
What answer should I give?  
I love not hollow cheek nor faded eye  
And yet, oh my friend, I will not have thee die!  
Ask me no more, lest I bid thee live,  
Ask me no more.[/i]  
  
Diana Blythe hurried up to her little white room and sat down on her bed, disregarding in her haste the gauzy white lace of the coverlet that softened the pale blue wool blanket beneath it, like the blurring effect of clouds on a bright June sky. In her hand, she held a slender envelope on which her name was printed in large, slanting capital letters, strangely delicate in their form.  
  
iDear Diana/i, John's letter ran in an easy style that reminded Diana poignantly of his wonderfully expressive voice. iI can imagine that you're having the summer of your dreams in the little town of Glen St. Mary, but I hope you haven't quite forgotten your foolish college chums. You will, after all, be forced to see us once autumn decides to overthrow summer once again, my friend. I hope that this finds you well and happy in your sleepy island town. Don't be angry with my "superior" city dialect, Di. Sleepy and tranquil are not necessarily poor attributes for a town to have, especially amid all the destructive modernization of today. I've found the some of the most precious treasures on earth in the small, quiet alcoves that have been overlooked in the mad rush to steel plate and add gears to every aspect of our daily lives. I've seen too much of that here in my summer job in Kingsport. You'd be shocked at what these advocates of process are doing to the fair, dignified city. Gorgeous old oaks ripped up with as much care as one would take up an old, rotting fence. It angers me beyond reason, I suppose, but still I want to rush out and say "This is not what we fought for in the Great War. This is not what husbands and brothers and sons died for, so you could ruin their homelands in the name of comfort!" I'm sorry here you are, expecting a harmless letter filled with news and amusing anecdotes, and you receive a tirade on industry. But there is no real news to tell. Work fills my days and blissful idleness my nights. I've become a terrible sloth over the summer, but I'll put my nose back to the grind when school rolls back around. Thank you for your invitation to your sister's wedding. I'll come, if only to laugh at the absurdity of the youngest sister being married before the elder two. Yes, it is absurd, Di, especially when you consider all you and Nan have to do is lift a finger, and you'd have fellows from all walks. I'm only partially joking, Di. Oh, very well, I'll leave you to your more important pursuits than reading a letter from your epistle hungry friend.   
  
Hope you're well, and your family--  
Johni  
  
Diana set the letter on her desk with a small sigh. Now that she returned from the comforting sense of John's presence, she felt lonelier than ever. This summer had been strangely empty and had given many opportunities for solitude. Jem and Faith were always off together, discussing their lives together and their dreams now. Nan and Jerry spent hours arguing in the all-too-silent Rainbow Valley, Una had been sent out west for her health, Carl was locked up in his room writing lengthy epistles to Cynthia, Shirley had never been a social lad, and Rilla was absorbed in preparations for her upcoming wedding to Ken Ford. Diana had never really needed any friends to make herself content, but now the silence around her was thick and pressed down on her soul. She would not admit, even to herself, how much she missed John. She missed seeing him, talking to him, laughing together, having someone to be with. The slight constraint between them had quickly vanished, and their friendship had been deepening all these months. Diana did not see the effect of John's acquaintance on herself, but her mother noticed the changes, and watched her daughter carefully.   
  
At the moment, Anne stood outside Diana's room, her arms filled with Diana's bridesmaid gown for Rilla's wedding. Unseen by Diana, Anne watched her daughter drink in the contents of the newly arrived letter with a shy enthusiasm. Anne half suspected Diana of falling in love, and sighed a little at the thought. All of her little children that had slept, white-clad, on her motherly lap, were now tall and independent young men and women. Anne's mouth twitched as she remembered Nan and Di as dimpled babies, one in her arms, the other in Gil's. The two plump infants, distinguishable only by the pink and blue ribbons around their baby heads, had grown up into two distinctive little girls. Could she not see the twins now, wearing their prettily embroidered organdy smocks and identical white straw boaters--the only identical thing about the two little girls. The small child in Anne's memory vanished behind the corner to be replaced by a taller, thinner girl with two braids of ruddy hair. The image of her daughter running down the stairs at full speed in her blue pinafore, her sister on her heels, each desperately trying to win a race to be the first at the revels in Rainbow Valley. The girl disappeared in turn to be replaced by another Diana, one standing on the verge of womanhood. Her hair severely pulled back under the crisp Red Cross cap, she quickly and skillfully hemmed the sheets in her hands. Anne's face saddened as she remembered the horrors of the war that had taken one son's life and the happy innocence of all her other children. Her thoughts were shattered by Diana's voice.   
  
"Mother?" Anne's daughter looked curiously at her and her burden. "Is that my bridesmaid's dress?" Anne shook herself free of lingering ghosts and echoes of the past to smile at the present.   
  
"Yes, dear." Anne handed her daughter a soft, clinging dress of blue georgette. "Let me see you, Di." Diana eagerly retreated behind her Japanese screen to change, throwing her skirt and blouse over the top of it.   
  
"How does Rilla look in her wedding gown, Mother? Like a dream, I imagine."  
  
"Like a dream," Anne agreed, remembering Rilla's slim form in her beautiful dress, her cheeks already displaying some of the "bridal rose" all brides wore upon their faces that was far more beautiful than any powder. "But her bridesmaids will be equally lovely. Come out, darling, and let me see you.   
  
Diana stepped out, her slender form encased in the dress. Her creamy neck rose up out of the square neckline, and the sleeves were cut away and fringed with small ruffles to show the glint of her pale arms in the golden lamplight. The dress gently framed her figure and cascaded to the floor in a fairy cloud of fabric. Without comment, Anne carefully pulled the pins out of Diana's braids so the rich auburn hair brushed her shoulders and back. Diana sat at her vanity, unconsciously regarding herself in the mirror as her mother loosely gathered her hair back and wove in the delicate white flowers of that adorned a nearby vase. With that, Anne sat next to her daughter and smiled at the reflection.   
  
You're beautiful, Diana, darling. Diana smiled, a faint flush appearing on her cheeks.  
  
Thank you, Mother. The moment lingered a second more, and then Diana stood up briskly. Well, there's still a great deal to do until the wedding. Where am I needed most, Mother?  
  
With an effort, Anne pushed her thoughts away from childhood memories of Diana and towards the future. She pushed a lock of greying hair out of her face and frowned pensively.  
  
Let me think, she said thoughtfully. I don't think Susan needs any help in the kitchen at the moment--I don't think she wants it, for that matter. Diana laughed as she went behind the screen to change once again.   
  
Dear Susan, Diana said fondly, thinking of the grey-haired matron that had been with the Blythes for over twenty years. Anne smiled.   
  
Oh, just go relax, darling. You deserve the rest. Diana raised her eyebrows.   
  
Are you sure, Mother? If anyone really deserves rest, it's you, Rilla, and Susan. Anne shook her head and took the bridesmaid gown from Diana's hands.   
  
Go to Rainbow Valley, Di, and see if you can see the lingering echoes of those old songs you used to sing. Diana laughed softly and left the room. Anne sat there a moment longer, staring into the mirror. Gilbert found her there, and slipped his arms about her waist.  
  
Still as beautiful as ever, Anne-girl, he whispered softly into her ear. Anne laughed ruefully and rested her head against his cheek.   
  
I see quite a few silvery threads among the red, she said dryly, pressing down on Gilbert's hands. That's the problem with daughters, Gil. They're your best friend and worst enemy at the same time, and while confusing you, they remind you of what you [i]used[/i] to look like. Gilbert's only response was to tighten his grip on her waist.   
  
Di's falling in love, Gil, she said, a trifle wistfully. She doesn't know it yet, but she is. Gilbert sighed and looked out at the summer afternoon, bright and splendid in its loveliness.   
  
I guess we couldn't hold it off forever, queen of my heart, he replied, a faint tone of regret tingeing his voice. But we'll still be married long after the children are gone. Anne turned her head and looked into his dark hazel eyes. Her lips met his in a kiss that began simply, but deepened as Gilbert drew her closer to him. The world faded away into a gentle blur of sound and light, and the conscious thought in Anne's mind was that someday, hopefully, Diana would be this happy with the man she loved.  
  
The days until Rilla's wedding slipped as golden grains through the glass of time, passing all too quickly for Anne's tastes. To Di, however, the day seemed to linger forever until moving onto tomorrow. John was coming--and as his arrival date crept nearer, Di found herself ridiculously eager to see him, or so she phrased it. He was to stay with the Merediths, as he and Carl were special chums. A few days before the bridal morn, Carl came up to Ingelside to fetch Di for the ride to the station.   
  
While Carl waited downstairs, Diana adjusted her new linen suit. It was a smoky blue that drew out the grey in her eyes and the rich browns in her ruddy tresses. Di's critical eye swept up and down her reflection, contemplating her appearance. With an exasperated sigh at her own vanity, she turned to go, only to dash back a second later to return a stray wisp of hair that had fallen onto her brow.   
  
her mother called from downstairs.  
  
Diana threw back in reply, hurrying down the stairs. Carl was waiting impatiently for her and with a quick nod, the two set off. Di felt her heart quicken a little, then made herself turn her thoughts from John for a full two minutes to punish herself for the silly weakness.   
  
How's Una? she said indifferently, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off of her lap.   
  
All right, Carl replied. She's a little better from her time out west--more colour in her cheeks and all that.   
  
Is she going back after the wedding?  
  
Well . . . Carl hesitated briefly. I don't know. Father and Rosemary don't want her to go. I think it must get pretty lonely up at the manse sometimes, with only Bruce and Aunt Martha for company. Di thought of how silent Ingelside could be when it did not ring with laughter, and nodded in agreement.   
  
They rode the rest of the journey in silence. Di tapped her dainty heel against the floor, suddenly wishing that Rilla and Father had not taken the car today. What would John think? Carl's mouth twitched as he looked over at Di. The pale roses in her cheeks deepened to crimson as she caught his eye. Di nervously pressed her cool hands against her face, remembering a snide comment of a fellow schoolgirl.  
  
You look so funny when you blush, Di. Your mouth is red, and your cheeks are red, and then you seem all red.  
  
All in all, Di was grateful when they arrived at the station. Out of the train came a gradual trickle of people, starting with a little old lady, dressed in a distinctly ugly bonnet and black cashmere--cashmere! Di's skin itched in sympathy at the thought. The lady was followed by an odd assortment of mothers, aunts, uncles, sons, nosy neighbors--and then John stepped off. Di's first thought was how itired/i John looked. He had lost weight, and the flush that usually burned on his cheek had faded. Di noticed how his hand clung to the railing as he disembarked, and her brow furrowed in concern. He must have had an awful illness to be like this. She remembered something he had said in winter, when she had been sneezing and coughing up a storm.  
  
I hardly ever get sick, but when I do, it's pretty bad. Di shook her head ruefully as they walked up to meet him. The silly boy had gone and gotten himself a cold or something while working--in the summer, no less! How on earth had he gotten a cold in the summer?  
  
John met Carl with a firm handshake and a hearty slap on the back, and then turned to Di. He extended his hand for a polite greeting, but Di threw her arms around his neck. She could see the shocked face of Mrs. Alec Davis over his shoulder, and smiled inwardly. Diana had had a bit of a mischievous streak in her youth. It was good to see she had not entirely lost it.   
  
John said conversationally as they walked back to the buggy. What's been going on when I wasn't here to chaperone?  
  
Di only laughed. It was good to be together again.   
  
On the fresh, pearly morn of Rilla's wedding to Ken, Ingelside bustled with activity. Finishing touches on the wedding feast had to be done, flowers given to the right people at the right time, and many other tiny details that had every member of the household on his or her feet. But Diana managed to slip away long enough to watch the first misty streaks of dawn paint the pale sky. Faint rays of rose and gold shot through the veiled mist and out into the day. The sand dunes sparkled faintly in the light and the waves seemed aflame with the dawning radiance.   
  
John arrived at Ingelside with the rest of the Merediths and saw Di, her hair flowing freely over the light green shoulders of her dressing gown, and drew in a sharp breath. He knew that it wasn't right for him to be seeing her like this, but she looked itransfigured/i in the lovely morning light. Her face was faintly elfin--mocking, alluring, beautiful--as she gazed around at her surroundings. The practical bent of her lips that he was so used to softened into an adorably kissable mouth. She drew her chin a little closer to her shoulder, nestling the mass of shining hair into a halo around her. A call from inside startled her, and she turned to go, her hands already braiding up her curls. John smiled at himself and shook his head a little.   
  
Sentimental rot, he muttered, amused at his own thoughts. And wasn't it just a year ago that you swore you'd never get like this over any girl?   
  
But now that he was in love, John found that as he had so unromantically termed it, was justified from time to time--over a very special girl, of course. Di would probably laugh at him if she knew his thoughts. Luckily, she didn't--thank goodness for small favors.   
  
Noon finally reached the bridal day, and the guests assembled on the lawn of Ingelside to chat and await the wedding. John shifted in his seat next to Carl and looked around. His hands anxiously played in his lap until Carl discreetly elbowed him.  
  
It's not your neck going into the noose today, John, it's Ken's. What do you have to be so nervous about? John laughed quietly and calmed down.   
  
I guess it's just the thought of being married that unnerves me, he responded jokingly. Carl glanced down at the ground and shrugged.  
  
Well . . .in all honesty, John, and you'd better not repeat this--I'm thinking that if things continue as they are, I'm going to ask Cynthia to marry me. John raised an eyebrow. He hadn't known things were that advanced between the two.   
  
Are you sure? Carl grinned shamefacedly.   
  
I know it's early, but I can't fathom why I wouldn't ask the first girl who appreciates insects to marry me. . .especially when she's as wonderful as Cynthia. Carl tilted his head meaningfully towards Ingelside. And what about you, Mr. I'm-too-good-to-be-married? Methinks there's someone you're wanting to see today? John's cheeks warmed slightly as he caught the overtones in Carl's voice.  
  
Well. . .it's just that Di. . .really isn't interested. But I'm going to keep trying. She's worth the wait of a hundred years. Carl let out a soft whistle.  
  
Well, good luck, John. If you can win Diana Blythe, you'll win a jewel among women. Di's not the type to be won over by just romantic deeds, though. John nodded in agreement.  
  
Oh, most assuredly. But Di's. . .Di's special, you know? Carl smiled sympathetically, but his words were drowned out by the beginning of the bridal march. The soft strains of music floated around the canopy as the flower girl, Ken's little niece, entered, strewing delicate rose petals before her. The ring boy, Bruce Meredith, came after, carefully balancing a gold band on a lacy, satin pillow.  
  
Following the children came the four bridesmaids, Faith, joyous and merry next to Nan, who smiled demurely at Jerry and blushed a little as he smiled back. Next came Una--not really pretty, but lovely in a wistful way, the sorrow in her sweet eyes hiding behind happiness for her friend . And then--John's eyes widened as he saw Di. He hadn't thought it would be possible for her to appear more beautiful than she had. He had been grievously wrong. She stepped gracefully among her cloud of blue georgette, her hands filled with white flowers. John thought she looked exactly like a beam of pale moonlight in that gown, red hair and all.   
  
Then the bride stepped out into view, and the guests drew a collective breath of awe. Rilla wore a beautiful dress of white silk that trailed behind her in a flow of lace. Her misty veiled frosted her soft, tawny curls, and was crowned by a tiara of flowers. In her hands, she held a lavender and white rose bouquet. Ken looked lovingly at Rilla as Gilbert escorted her down the aisle. Kissing his daughter, Gilbert sat down next to Anne, who sat with unshed tears of happiness in her starry grey eyes. He took his wife's hand reassuringly as the ceremony began.   
  
Di smiled as she heard Rilla and Ken speak their sacred vows of love and fidelity. Her sister stood, radiating happiness as she repeated Reverend Meredith's words.  
  
I Rilla, take thee, Ken. . .  
  
After John Meredith pronounced them husband and wife, everyone cheered as the newly married pair kissed with deepest love. Turning from her husband, Rilla grasped her bouquet in both hands and closed her eyes, tossing the flowers as she did so. The roses sailed through the air and landed into Di's astonished hands. Her face flushed darkly as she looked up and caught John's expression. He had a quiet half-smile on his face, more contented and happy than she had ever seen him before.   
  
Di blushed even harder after seeing John's smile. She shifted the flowers from hand to hand as the bridal party gathered to see the married pair off. Rilla, now looking exquisite in her green travel suit, kissed her family goodbye and cast a longing look back at the house where she had spent her years from babyhood to womanhood. Anne was the last person to say her farewells to the bride. Gently kissing Rilla, Anne smiled into her daughter's beautiful eyes, tears forming in her own.   
  
I love you, sweetheart. Rilla, unable to answer, pressed her hand down upon her mother's. Gilbert tucked his arm around Anne's shoulders as the car started and slowly vanished from their site. Beside the Blythes, Leslie and Owen Ford stood in a similar position. Anne and Leslie sadly smiled at each other and embraced.   
  
At least they're happy, Leslie said wistfully. Anne looked at the bend in the road and nodded.  
  
It doesn't make it any easier, though, she whispered. Leslie shook her head.  
  
she said quietly. It doesn't.   
  
Gilbert stood next to Anne, remembering his baby girl, his A picture of baby Rilla flashed into his mind--her adorable smile, her satiny cheek, her crinkling eyes, the dark ringlets on her little head . . .Shaking his head in a vain effort to banish the sadness, he looked around at the rest of his children. They all seemed so young for careers and marriage and families. He felt a pang of sympathy for his own parents. He couldn't believe the faith they must have had in him, in order to let him go like that. Anne's hand tightened on his shoulder.  
  
It'll be all right, she said gently. Gilbert wrapped her in his arms, smiling at his beautiful wife.   
  
he said meaningfully. It will. Anne laughed girlishly and rested her head on Gilbert's chest.   
  
Oh, Gil, she sighed, half-laughing. What would I do without you? Gilbert pretended to consider the issue.   
  
I don't know, he said mockingly. I simply don't know. Anne elbowed him at that, and then slipped her hand into his. Behind them, merry jests and sounds of joyous laughter filled the tent. Anne and Gilbert remembered another wedding at an old, grey-green house so many years ago. Looking like a pair of newlyweds themselves, the happy couple walked back to the circle of love that was their family.   
  
Di, meanwhile, was finding it distinctly awkward to be holding the omen of impending marriage. Several meaningful glances were thrown her way, bringing Di's fevered senses to a heightened pitch. Finally, she pushed the bouquet into Nan's startled hands and slipped off to say hello to various guests. While talking with Mrs. Donald Reese, she spotted John stood a little off to side, his face pale and clutching a nearby chair with an intensity that frightened Diana. Quickly excusing herself from her conversation, Di hurried over to his side.   
  
she called, her voice tremulous with anxiety. Are you all right? Hearing her voice, John pressed his lips together and took a painful breath.   
  
Di. . .I . . . And with that, John collapsed in an awkward heap. Di let out a piercing scream, her dress falling carelessly around her as she sank to her knees next to him.  
  
she screamed, a thousand visions of sickness and death dancing before her terrified eyes. Father, please hurry! Gilbert broke away from his debate with Mark McAllister and ran over to where Di crouched, her eyes wild with panic. Quickly and professionally, Gilbert examined John.  
  
Jem, Carl! he called, his voice taking on an edge as he stood. Help me bring him up to my office immediately! The two young men gently picked up their friend while Gilbert ran up to the house to telephone for a nurse. Deep in his heart, he felt a tinge of horrible fear for the young man that his daughter loved. Something felt very wrong about this.  
  
Back at the tent, the occasion of joy had degenerated into a mingling of confused voices and mangled attempts at heap. Di stood, her face ashen and her figure rigid. Anne gently touched her daughter's hand, and a loose coil of ruddy hair fell onto her shoulder. Di didn't seem to notice.  
  
her mother said softly, feeling a sympathetic ache for the anguish her child was feeling at the moment. Come inside, dearest. Diana's breath heaved, but she silently followed Anne into Ingelside's living room. Drawing the shades, Anne shook her head with fear as she looked at her daughter. Diana's stricken face and trembling hands betrayed her distress. Anne tenderly brushed Di's hair off her face. The heap of curls that were a younger, more vivid version of her own cut Anne to her heart.   
  
It may not be anything, darling. He's probably just worn out from work. Di turned her burning eyes on her mother, eyes that seemed to read through her soul and through her comforting lies.  
  
Do you really believe that, Mother? she demanded. Anne sighed and looked at the family photograph that graced the mantel. Diana's tone insisted on the truth--and her little daughter was a child no longer, but a woman with eyes filled with fear. A tear slipped down Anne's cheek along the well-paved grooves sorrow had wrought on her once youthful face. The desire to whisper comforting lies grew stronger.  
  
she said quietly. Di shook her head.  
  
Nor do I.   
  
Diana Blythe walked the floor in agony for the next thirty days. Her soul was caught in a hideous trap that winked at and mocked her misery. The thought of what each horrible hour could bring danced before her , like some yawning pit of despair. Never, even in the black days of war had Di felt so utterly devoid of hope. Even when news was sent of her beloved brother's death, Di had managed to pull herself away from the grief to look up at the shining iIdea/i for which the men had fought. But here there was no all-compassing dream to rejuvenate the defeated soul. Terror washed over her at every moment, battering at her weakened defenses. She would not cry--she dared not. She was desperately afraid that her maudlin tears would murder the last hope that she clung to.   
  
Oh, she loved him. She did not doubt that now. Loved him with a passion she hadn't known her soul was capable of. She could see now how narrow and empty her previous existence had been--how devoid of soaring grace and beauty life had been without the precious commodity of love. Love tore the veil from life's deep, mysterious eyes and revealed all. It wouldn't, Di thought angrily to herself, be right to let her go back to the colourless days she had lived before love had painted them with its glorious rainbow of dreams.   
  
Every morning, she came down for breakfast, saw the quiet hopelessness in her father's eyes, and slowly walked back up to the blessed seclusion of her room. John hovered between life and death for those days, and nothing could be done for him. Whispers of dreadful words like and lingered in the shadowy corners of the guest room where John fought to breathe.   
  
Each night Di knelt, white-robed by her bedside, and prayed. She let the need and the fear flow out of her in her whispered, inarticulate prayers to God. One word she repeated over and over again.  
  
  
  
bEnd of Part II./b  



End file.
